


Tellin' Stories

by TheTalkingPeanut



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Bonfire, Crack, Gen, Kidnapping, Special Guest - Freeform, This Is STUPID, weekly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 00:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTalkingPeanut/pseuds/TheTalkingPeanut
Summary: Tellin' stories around a bonfire. And also want a story told...(This is purely stupid.)(Done for a weekly challenge in which I missed the point of the challenge.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Tellin' Stories

“...So the door opens slowly, all the girls huddled tightly in their beds, shiverin’, and a shakin’. Bedsheets covered up just to their shining eyes. Unable to look away, when the Thump! Thump! Thump! reaches ever closer to the youngest one’s bed. All falls silent. Then a rustle. And a creak… and before the little ones have a chance to blink and warn their sister, and a grotesque hand reaches out and…

_“GRABS HER!!” _

Crowley jumps out with his hands outstretched towards the bonfire to emphasize the point of the jumpscare. A wicked, devilish grin spread proudly over his face.

Gabriel was not amused.

“That’s it?” He stated flatly, arms crossed._ “That’s_ the end of the story? ‘He grabs her’?”

“Well. Yeah. More or less.” The demon’s smile falters.

“It’s not even scary!”

“Not for an emotionless prat like you,” Crowley mumbled, “The jumpscare was supposed to take care of that part.”

“And that’s what you relied upon? The jumpscare?” The Archangel raised an eyebrow.

“Oh like you could do better.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t have to. Because I bet even reading an ad out of a free magazine would be more frightening than your entire story build-up.”

“Your story is more frightening than a… story, magazine… free…” Crowley trailed out after that.

“Wow. That’s just sad.”

“Shut-up!” He leaned back in his chair and pushed his sunglasses further up his nose, even though they hadn’t fallen in the slightest.

Gabriel felt rather smug at that point and felt no shame in showing it. “Aw, don’t be like that. Not everyone can be on point all the time. Unless you’re an angel. Which, of course, you aren’t anymore.”

“Are we really going to do this? ‘Cause I’ve got no problem having a tango for that dance,” Crowley growled it low. Growing more pissed by the passing second.

Gabriel - still smiling - leaned in and whispered, “You’re not worth the time.”

_“Excuse me here!!”_

Both fantastic entities turned at the same time to their third companion, whom for a moment they had temporarily forgotten was seated amongst them.

“Sorry to interrupt this scintillating conversation - which I’m completely invested in, I can assure you - but will either of you please tell me— _WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” _

The third person amongst them yelled at the top of his lungs and stomped his feet. A burst of surprised birds erupted from the treetops and took off in a spastic flight to get away from the jarring sound.

It might have been a tad juvenile, but sadly it was the only thing he could do under the current circumstances. Considering he had been thoroughly tied to his own chair facing the other two around the fire.

They were in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. At least, that’s sure what it felt like.

The other two exchanged a look, then turned back to their precious companion. “I’m not quite sure what you mean,” answered Crowley.

The man laughed a bit hysterically after a brief pause - which thrilled the other two in a delight they could barely contain - and shook his head as he stared blatantly at the bonds that held him.

“Well,” he started, “since you both seem to be suggestively blind, let’s start with why I am tied to this fucking chair.”

Gabriel flinched. _“Language,_ Mr. Hamill. Let’s not resort to childish name-calling.”

Hamill gawked at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You are forgiven.” Gabriel nodded back. The man didn’t change his facial expression. In fact, it deepened.

While this was happening, Crowley had been hop-scooching his chair closer to the human and sighed once he’d reached him. He draped one of his arms over the other’s shoulders and tried to put on the charm.

“See, it’s like this, Mr. Hamill. Mark— can I call you Mark?”

“No!” Hamill shook his head.

“See Mark, it’s like this,” he continued, “All we want, is just a little, tiny bit of a hint as to what is going to happen in Episode IX.” Gabriel nodded in agreement.

Silence fell among them with only the sound of the crackling fire within miles.

Then, Hamill moaned. “Oh, my God.” He squeezed his eyes tight and turned away from the demon sitting next to him. “This is about Star Wars.”

“Just a small detail. Like, what Rey’s last name is.” Gabriel not-so-casually threw out there. “We won’t tell anyone; Scout’s honor.” He concluded with a hand raised and the other over his vessel’s heart. He made a gesture to Crowley and the demon sputtered an agreement.

“Oh! A-absolutely! Hope to die, and all that.”

But Hamill stayed turned away and remained silent. Crowley glanced at the Archangel and thought for a moment that he didn’t hear them. “So, what do you say—”

“No!” Hamill screamed at him, whipping his head around and startling the demon to nearly tip back in his chair. “I’m not going to tell you anything! I’m contractually obligated, don’t you understand that?!” It came out as one long stream.

Hamill heaved a sigh. “Now, just untie me, and we’ll forget this whole thing ever happened. Okay?”

Neither spoke. Gabriel leaned back, watching the human like a hawk. Several seconds ticked by.

_ “What?!”_ Hamill shrieked. He kept staring between the two of them.

Gabriel gasped and placed a hand to his chest once more. His eyes closed and it looked as if he was holding in the breath he had just taken. “Say that again,” it came out softly.

Hamill frowned, “What?”

“Not like that, how you did it before!” The Angel waves his other hand around irritated.

Hamill seemed lost. He turns to the other one who is looking at him with his mouth slightly open.

“What is he talking abou—”

“RAWR!” Crowley lunges at the human and roars with all the sounds of Hell to back him up.

Hamill lurches back and screams which slowly morphs into an uncomfortable, nervous laugh.

“Why did you do that?!” He cries out. Fear evident in his eyes.

Crowley doesn’t answer him. Instead, he clasps a hand over his mouth and a strangled sound escapes from him. He bites a knuckle and turns to Gabriel who looked as if he was going to cry.

“Did you hear it?”

“I did!”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Neither can I!”

“He ‘actually’ did it!” Crowley nearly squealed.

Gabriel fanned his face, “I know!” Then they both giggled.

“The _Joker,_ here and now!”

“Well, as they say,” both men leaned close to each other and said in unison, “You can’t spell Mark Hamill without ‘Arkham’! HA!” And they double high-fived each other.

Hamill glared at them as they laughed and thought, for the first time, maybe he should be a little more careful when accepting invitations from fans.

**Author's Note:**

> ...........................................................................................................
> 
> I..... I got nothing to say.
> 
> Except..... I love Mark Hamill.
> 
> (And the thought of Crowley and Gabriel putting differences aside cuz they're nerds is too damn funny to me. Don't ask.)


End file.
